Diana Dueyn - The Big Meow

Across the road they started passing more normal-looking buildings than the concrete-forecourted theater and the histrionic hotel. Shops and stores, the occasional granite-faced bank; and then suddenly, without warning, the smell of roasted meat occurred as they came up to a wooden storefront with square-paned windows. Rhiow’s mouth began to water as the Silent Man opened the door and held it for the People to walk in.

I will not run, I will not run, Rhiow thought: but she didn’t loiter, either. Inside the door it was very dark and cool, compared to the rapidly warming day outside: and everything smelled of meat, and fish, and smoke. The floor was of wood, and all the walls were paneled, with rows of tables and benches covered in red leather, and a counter down the right-hand side. Just in front of where the Silent Man stood was a wooden podium, and behind it stood a tall balding ehhif in a suit.

“And who’s this functionary?” Rhiow said.

“It’s a maitre d’,” Urruah said. “He tells the ehhif where to sit.”

The ehhif’s expression didn’t look like that of anyone who seemed about to issue orders, though, once he set eyes on the Silent Man. “Well, good afternoon, Mr. Runyon!” the maitre d’ said. “And the lovely Miss Sheba as well. So nice to have you.”

“It’s so nice to be recognized,” Sheba said to the others, over the Silent Man’s back. “Once they get to know you here they’re very good. Wait till you see – “

“—But we don’t often have the pleasure for seating you for lunch,” said the maitre d’: “it’s just as well you got here early. Would you prefer to be at the counter today, or your usual table?”

The Silent Man shook his head, reached into his pocket and came out with a small notepad and pen. On the pad he scribbled something quickly, held it up. Rhiow craned her neck to see.

GOT MORE COMPANY TODAY. SIDE TABLE BACK ROOM?

The maitre d’ peered to either side of the Silent Man, briefly confused. Down by his feet, though, Rhiow looked up and said, just loudly enough to attract an ehhif’s attention, “Meow.”

The maitre d’ looked down in great surprise at Rhiow – then saw, behind her, Urruah and Hwaith and Arhu and Siffha’h, all sitting around the Silent Man’s feet, looking absently in various directions and wearing the universal expression of bored people waiting in line.

“Well, my goodness,” the maitre d’ said. “This would possibly be Miss Sheba’s fan club?”

The Silent Man grinned, scribbled on the pad again, ripped the page, held it up. VISITING TALENT FROM OUT OF TOWN. GOT ENOUGH CHAIRS?

The maitre d’ allowed himself a slight smile as the door behind them opened. “I’m certain we can manage. How many menus?”

“Is there room for one more?” came a female voice from behind them.

The Silent Man turned, and his eyes widened slightly. So did those of the maitre d’.

In through the restaurant door came undulating a tall slender figure in red, her raven hair coiled up loosely under a wide-brimmed red hat that slouched down over one eye. Rhiow, catching the other eye, put her whiskers forward, then glanced up at the maitre d’ and the Silent Man as the lady in red paused before the maitre d’s podium.

“Rrrrrrowrrrr,” Urruah said, amused, and not particularly under his breath.

Ewwwwww! Arhu said silently. Interspecies stuff! You are beyond perverse.

“I’m so sorry to be late,” Helen said to the Silent Man, “but I took a wrong turn on the way here.” From those dark eyes, Helen gave the maitre d’ a look that could have been described as “smoldering” if it hadn’t been so amused.

The Silent Man glanced down at Rhiow. Without moving his lips, he said, Are you going to tell me that this lady’s in your organization too?

“Yes,” Rhiow said, amused.

Where do I join? he said. The Silent Man’s eyes went back to Helen again: he held his hand out, smiling.

“Since you’re helping us,” Rhiow said, “I think possibly you’ve joined already.”

Helen took his hand. “Helen Walks Softly,” she said.

And carries a big stick, I bet, the Silent Man said as he shook Helen’s hand.

“Normally,” Helen said in a demure whisper, “a gun. But I’m not packing today.”

A gun, huh, said the Silent Man. Funny. You smell like a cop. But they don’t give lady cops guns in this town.

Helen didn’t even blink. “There are other places where a lady can be a cop,” she said: which was true enough, if a misdirection. “As for how I smell, I guess you missed the ‘Evening in Paris.’”

A slow grin spread over the Silent Man’s face. Come on, doll, he said, as the maitre d’ left his podium and headed for the back of the restaurant.

They passed through the front room, followed by the unavoidable stares and laughter of the ehhif already seated there – though Rhiow noted that as many of the stares, interested or envious or sometimes both, were directed toward Helen’s dark good looks as toward the trail of cats behind the Silent Man. In his wake, they all walked into a secondary room with an arched and painted ceiling covered with autumnal outdoor scenes. A bar ran down the right side of this room, and more tables along the left side: and about halfway down was a door into a third room, smaller and more shadowy than either of the first two.

The maitre d’, Helen and the Silent Man went through. This room was as darkly wood-panelled as the others, but was also, to Rhiow’s surprise, nearly full – the front of the restaurant had still been half empty. And the tables were almost entirely occupied by men, most of whom looked up with great interest as Helen walked in behind the maitre d’. Helen gave them all the kind of gracious, cool look that visiting royalty might have bestowed on a crowd of visiting lackeys, and then turned her attention to the table where the maitre d’ had pulled out a chair for her.

It was an excellent spot for them: round, with one side of the table edged into a lace-curtained bay window that looked out into an unassuming back yard space, more a service area than a patio. The window had a high window seat cushioned in red leather: perfect for ehhif children, or People. Urruah and Hwaith leapt up and seated themselves next to Sheba as she jumped down from the Silent Man’s shoulder onto the window seat. Siffha’h and Arhu jumped up next to them. Rhiow leapt onto the window seat’s far side, closest to Helen: and on Helen’s other side, the Silent Man seated himself with his back to the rest of the room, where no one else could see whether he was moving his mouth or not.

“I take it,” Helen said, “that back here, the press won’t be too much in the way?”

The Silent Man smiled at the sound of a question that might as logically have come from some publicity-shy starlet. He put his pad down, scribbled on it briefly by way of camouflage, while saying silently, I wouldn’t worry about it. There’s nobody back here but writers.

Helen smiled, laughing softly. Across the table, Urruah looked over the Silent Man’s arm as he opened the menu. “Steak,” he said. “Liver. Salmon. Brook trout…” Rhiow looked away, eager not to see him actually drool.

“Your usual, sir?” said the maitre d’.

The Silent Man nodded. The maitre d’ turned to Helen. “A glass of wine, perhaps,” she said.

“And for Miss Sheba and her friends? Cream, perhaps? Or is it too early in the day?”

Rhiow was hard put not to laugh out loud. “Cream all around,” Helen said, “by all means.” She smiled at the Silent Man. “Would you like me to handle the orders for the other side of the table?”

The Silent Man nodded, smiled.

The maitre d’ took himself away. Urruah was purring already. “I foresee a very interesting afternoon…” he said.